


Light Up This Place

by shinnyluvssuju



Category: Metallica
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-03-21 20:32:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3704161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinnyluvssuju/pseuds/shinnyluvssuju
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From birth to death, the world takes what you give it. Whether it will give back to you, however, is for it to decide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The Beginning

Satterly Lane was a street straight out of a storybook-- a quirky suburban storybook taking place on an island off the east coast, but a storybook nonetheless. The homes were small and quite old, with peeling paint that was surely bright in the 40's but had long since faded. But this didn’t bother the residents much, because although some tried to spruce up their homed a bit every now and then, no one really moved to Satterly for the quality of the infrastructure. What made their neighborhood so beautiful and so special was location, location, location. 

The backyard of practically every home was the bay, surrounded by green seagrass and golden cattails. The view from any window alone cost quite a pretty penny. But to anyone that decided to purchase a home and start a new life there, it was beyond worth it. They weren't rich in dollars (well, most of them weren't, anyway), but they were rich in quality of life (well, most of them were, anyway). 

Nobody knew it yet, but Satterly was soon to host the births of three children, and become a new home for another. Perhaps none of them were to be the next Albert Einstein, JFK, Ernest Hemingway or Steven Spielberg, but they were to be special. Special to their families, and each other. Sure, they had higher hopes for what they thought they'd become. But they learned quickly that the powers-that-be didn't really follow any rules, and they most certainly didn't take orders. 

That to live is to die, so you must cherish it. Satterly watched as they grew, changed, left, and came back. It was the only constant in their ever turbulent lives, always there to wrap them back up in its loving embrace. 

On February 10th in 1962, Clifford Lee Burton was brought into the world. It was a home delivery, as Jan Burton had insisted she wanted a completely natural birth like she did with her first two children. The living-room floor had become a makeshift hospital bed, and her husband Ray was responsible for guiding her through the painful contractions. Their two young children Scott and Connie watched in fear and awe as their mother pushed out the newest member of the Burton family, their new baby brother. When Ray cleaned the child up and Scott got his mother a glass of water, Jan held her child in her arms. "Cliff," she said, tears of joy running down her face. "We love you already." Then it was Ray's turn to hold him, and after throwing a blanket over his newborn son he took him out on the back porch. He wanted his son's first sight of the world to be a beautiful one, and that night the moon reflected ever so gently off the bay, as if saying welcome itself. 

Months later on November 15th, in a room of the local hospital, Teofila and Dennis Hammett marveled at their first child, Kirk. Dennis smiled and told Teofila that Kirk already had her glittering dark eyes, and that surely his hair would be like hers too. But Teofila pointed out that the baby clearly had Dennis's nose and mouth, and when the nurse took their baby away to be put in a bed, they held hands tightly and felt like the luckiest people on earth. 

On December 21st of the next year thousands of miles away from Satterly in Gentofte, Denmark, Torbin Ulrich recklessly drove his wife Lone to the closest hospital, for her water had broken at dinner and the baby was due to come at any moment. She was screaming in pain in the backseat and although Torbin tried his hardest to be comforting, it didn’t seem to help much. When they finally reached the hospital and got Lone checked into a room, it was in the nick of time. Lars Ulrich was born at 8:13 pm, but his father wasn’t there to see it. Torbin was too busy talking to the press that swarmed the hospital lobby, asking him if his son would take up professional tennis like his old man, and if Torbin would continue with his tennis career when he moved to America with his family in the next month. 

James Allen Hetfield met the world screaming earlier that year on August 3rd. His mother Cynthia had to catch her breath and collect herself, having had no pain meds due to her at home birth. Her husband Virgil was overjoyed, and before the baby even stopped crying he was on his knees, giving a prayer of thanks to the Lord above. He kissed Cynthia on the forehead and helped clean herself up. She held the baby boy in her arms, and he felt so fragile that she feared she might drop him, he was too real, too vulnerable. Then she too said a prayer, and told little James that Jesus was already looking after him. 

And that is where our story begins.

\---

James wandered aimlessly about his backyard. Every now and then he would pick up a rock or a stick that looked interesting, but would ultimately wind up throwing it back down to the ground in boredom. His mother had told him to stay on their property, that the flowerbed was where the backyard stopped and he wasn't allowed to go any further. But he was just so bored, and there was nothing to do in the backyard anymore. He figured his mother would understand if he went just a bit past the flowers... 

He found even better rocks over there. He found round ones and smooth ones and even different colored ones. He continued on, collecting the rocks in his pants pockets. He almost got bored again until he saw somebody, running through the seagrass. He was delighted to find it was another kid, another boy! Finally, someone he could show his rocks to. 

"Hey!" he yelled as loudly as he could. "Hey, over here!" 

He saw the kid turn around, shaggy red hair falling over his face as he turned. He smiled, and ran over to where James stood. "Hi!" he said, waving his tiny hand. "I'm Cliff!" 

"My name is James," he said, suddenly a little frightened about talking to a new person. "Do you want... Do you want to see my rocks?" 

"Sure!" Cliff kept on smiling. "How many do you have? Where are they?" 

James took them out of his pocket and put them on the floor. He sat on the ground and Cliff followed, watching James count each rock. There were six of them. 

"You can have one if you want," James said. 

"Really? Are you sure?" Cliff asked, shocked that his new friend was willing to give up such cool rocks. 

"Yeah," James said. "You can have any one you want," 

Cliff giggled with glee as he looked over every single rock, feeling them and examining them closely. Finally he chose one, the smoothest, shiniest rock of the bunch.

"So you’re really sure I can have it?" 

"Yes!" James said. He laughed a little. This kid was strange. 

Cliff put it the pocket of his dirty jeans. "Wow, thanks!" 

"How old are you?" asked James. 

"I'm six," said Cliff. "How old are you?" 

"It's my birthday today," James said, prideful. "I'm five." 

"I'm older than you," Cliff said, seeming highly amused by this fact. "That never happens! Everyone at home is older than me." 

"Me too," James said. "My parents are like, super old." 

"Mine too." 

"What did you get for your birthday?" Cliff asked. 

James blinked. "Nothing." Cliff looked wounded after hearing this, like not getting a birthday gift was the weirdest thing he ever heard. So James added, "Not yet. I get presents after dinner." 

"Oh." Cliff paused. "Well I'm gonna give you a present now." He ran a few feet away to a particularly wet spot in the grass and shoved his hands in it, digging up all the mud. He was molding it into some sort of shape, maybe a castle? James went to investigate. 

Once Cliff decided he had created the perfect lump, he began sticking blades of grass, shards of broken seashells, and anything else he could get his hands on into it. 

"Look, I made you a cake!" he said excitedly. "Happy Birthday James! You're my new friend!" 

James laughed and then Cliff laughed. They laughed so hard their tiny stomachs felt like they'd burst a seam, until James heard a familiar voice. 

"James!" his mother screamed. She sounded worried, and especially angry. "James! Where are you sweetheart? Get in here, now!" 

"Oh no, that's my mom," James said. He stomped his foot. "I wanted to play more." 

"We can play tomorrow," Cliff suggested. The wind blew, and Cliff's bright hair covered his eyes. "Hey, I can't see!" They laughed, until James's mother called for him again. 

"I gotta go," he said. "Bye Cliff, see you tomorrow!" He turned around and ran home as fast as he could. He didn't want to make his mom even madder. 

"Bye!" he heard Cliff call in the distance. "Happy Birthday!" 

When he reached the house, his mother was on the back porch waiting for him with her hands on her hips. "Where have you been?" she asked crossly. "I told you to stay in the backyard, James, why didn't you listen?" 

"I'm sorry," he said looking down, and he really was. "I was just playing with Cliff..." 

His mother furrowed her brows. "Cliff? Is that the boy who lives next door?" 

"I guess so," James said. "He's so nice, mom! When I told him it was my birthday, he made me a cake out of mud!" 

"Is that so," his mother said flatly. She grabbed his hand to lead him inside. 

"Yeah! I even gave him a rock from my collection, you know," James continued, but she didn’t seem to care. Man, adults never cared about the important stuff. 

He was made mac and cheese for dinner since it was his birthday and that was his favorite, and then sent to bed a half hour after his scheduled bedtime. He was feeling pretty good until he heard his parents talking through the thin walls of the house as he lay in bed snuggled under the covers. 

"He was playing with one of the Burton kids," his mother said in hushed tones to his father, saying 'Burton kids' as if it was a disease. "The youngest one, Clifford." 

"Yikes," said his father. "Well, I suppose we can't stop two young boys who live next door from being friends. It'd be near impossible." 

His mother sighed. "I don't want him in that house! The parents are so... Odd. Remember when I met Jan at Carol's luncheon? My goodness, she was dressed like a hoodlum. A grown woman in ripped jeans! The nerve of her. I can only imagine how she raises her kids. I see how she just lets them roam about, barely caring what they get into. I don't want that influence on James." 

"Let's just play it day by day, Cynthia," said his father. "James could use some friends, he's always alone. It's not healthy." 

James stared at the floor sadly. He just couldn't understand why his mom and dad didn't like Cliff. He hoped they'd let them have a play date tomorrow. Eventually he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of smooth rocks and red hair. 

\---

They did have a play date the next day. And the day after that, and the day after that, until James was with Cliff every free chance he got. Sometimes they'd stay outside and play tag in the grass or swim in the bay, and other times they'd go to one of their houses. 

James loved Cliff's house. It always smelled like something sweet, sugar cookies or brownies or flowers or Cliff's mom's perfume. Cliff's mom was really nice, which made James even more confused as to why his own mother didn't like her. When they first met, James addressed her as Mrs. Burton. His mom had told him that that's how adults like to be spoken too, but Cliff's mom just patted him on the head and said, "You're too cute. You can call me Jan." It was weird at first calling a grown up by their first name, but James got used to it, and grew to like it. 

Cliff liked his parents a lot. He always talked about them like they were friends, not just people that made rules for him to follow. His siblings, on the other hand, were a bit more complicated. 

"They treat me like a baby," Cliff said. "And I'm not a baby, I'm seven years old!" James agreed that that was not very nice. "They don't let me watch movies with them, they don't take me where they go, because they say I'm too little. It makes me mad." But, despite all this, Cliff had a good relationship with them too. 

James never wanted to leave Cliff's house, but to make things fair they sometimes went over James's. It was always so awkward though, because his mom didn't pat Cliff on the head when she met him and ask him to call her Cynthia. She simply said, "I'm Mrs. Hetfield, make sure you're home before dinner." She looked at Cliff like he was a smudge of dirt in her clean house. 

But it didn’t matter, because it was always James and Cliff, Cliff and James, sleepovers and trips to the arcade, taking walks in the woods and watching movies. Just the two of them, until Cliff made some new friends. 

He discovered this after walking into Cliff's yard one day, only to discover his best friend playing with two other boys. It hurt so bad to see. Why was he replaced? Had he done something wrong? James felt tears welling up in his eyes, until Cliff saw who was watching them. 

"James!" he said, running over to him smiling until he saw the look on his face. "James, what's the matter?" 

"Who are they?" James asked. 

"That's Kirk and Lars, I met them yesterday. They live up the street." 

"Are they your new friends now?" James asked. 

"Yeah."

James started to cry, and Cliff looked puzzled. "Why are you crying?" 

"You like them better than me," James said, wiping his eyes. 

"No I don't!" Cliff insisted. "People can have a lot of friends. But you're not just my friend. You're my best friend." As if to prove it he reached into his pocket and showed James the rock he gave him when they first met. "See?" 

"Wow," James said. "Okay Cliff." 

"I'm sorry," he added for good measure. 

"It's okay," James said. 

"Do you want to meet them?" Cliff asked. "They can be your friends, too. We can all be friends." 

James nodded and Cliff led him over to them. Kirk was a really skinny kid with lots of black curly hair, and he wore glasses that made him look like a bug. Lars talked funny, and his big eyes and fluffy hair made him look almost like a doll. Lars said he talked funny because he wasn't from around here, and that he didn't even speak English at home. Kirk said his mom talked funny too, and that she was trying to teach him a language called Tagalog, but he wasn't that good at it. 

After hanging out with Kirk and Lars with Cliff for a while, James really grew to like them. He was no longer jealous that Cliff liked them, because equal attention was always given to him and the other boys when they were together. And besides, Cliff hung out with James way more often than he did with Kirk and Lars since they lived next door. Even when Kirk and Lars joined in on their sleepovers at Cliff's house, James was fine with it. They were starting to be like his new brothers. 

James's mom liked Lars. She said his family was respectable, and they were raising such a well mannered boy. What she didn’t know, however, was that the second Lars was out of sight of adults, he was the wildest and craziest kid James had ever seen. He practically bounced off the walls all the time, and he was usually the ring leader when they did something that they weren't supposed to or might not be safe. It was so funny to all of them how one minute he was a little monster, but the next he could turn it off and be the golden child when a parent came in to check on them. 

Kirk was a little quieter than the rest of them, but not really because he was shy. Kirk just preferred to watch and listen instead of instigate. He also liked books, and every now and then he'd bring some over when they got together. They were usually ghost stories or anything that had to do with monsters, and the four of them would read the stories aloud at night, sounding out the words until they made sense. Lars and James always got scared and had trouble sleeping after that, but Cliff and Kirk ate it right up. They'd draw pictures of monsters together, recreating the classics like Dracula and Frankenstein, or sometimes making up their own. 

When Cliff was eleven, his dad signed him up for piano lessons. Cliff loved it, and would often turn down hanging with the guys to practice and learn new songs. James liked watching Cliff play, because it was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. His mother sang a bit, but that was the extent of the music he heard in his home. Cliff's house, on the other hand, always had some sort of music swirling through the air. His dad played a lot of records, and his brother Scott played an instrument called a bass. Cliff begged his brother to let him watch when he practiced bass. He thought it was the coolest thing, and he always told James that one day Scott was gonna teach him how to play it. In the meantime he stuck to piano, and put on little concerts for his parents who always gave him a standing ovation and shouted encore. 

That same year, Lars's father signed him up for tennis lessons. It was time he upheld the family name, and Torbin saw a lot of potential in his son. But as the practicing became more rigorous each day, Lars got bored of the sport. He'd sit on the clay court and hold the racket like a guitar, pretending to strum. On TV he'd seen a guy playing drums on stage, and he was so mesmerized that he knew he'd have to have a drumset of his own. He begged his father every chance he got for one, explaining that he hated tennis, and that music was what he wanted to try. After a couple temper tantrums from Lars, his father finally gave in and bought him one. They put it in the basement and Lars would spend hours down there banging away. He'd always ask his dad to come watch, but Torbin always refused. He was too disappointed in his son. 

"Cliff and Lars wanna be music makers," Kirk said to James. "What do you want to do?" 

"I don't know yet," James said. 

"Me either," Kirk said. "I just wanna be me."


	2. Incoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh come on, I had to find an excuse to shove Dave in there. Enjoy! 
> 
> (I'm gonna try and update every Monday. It just so happens that I'm early this week)

Cliff hadn't left the house in a while. 

James was starting to get worried, and every time he went to knock on their door, nobody answered. For days he waited in anguish, just wanting to see Cliff. Finally he asked his mother why Cliff wasn't playing anymore, and she sat him down for an "important talk." 

She told him that Cliff's brother Scott got in an accident. He was riding his bike down a busy road, and a car flew around the corner so fast that the driver didn’t see Scott riding. He got run over, and now he was in heaven. Cliff couldn't come play because he was too sad, and his family was busy planning something called a funeral. 

James was heartbroken. Cliff must have been feeling terrible. James knew how sad he'd be if Cliff died, so he figured that was what Cliff was feeling about Scott. He really wanted to help, and he really wanted to make Cliff feel better. 

That night James's father helped him bake some cookies for Cliff's family. The next day he knocked on Cliff's door with the gift in hand, expecting no one to answer again. Instead, Jan answered the door. 

"James," she said, and she smiled but something told him it wasn't a happy smile. 

"I made you cookies," James said, holding them out to her. "I'm really, really, really sorry about Scott." 

"Thank you," she said, taking the container from him. "Come in, honey." 

"Thanks Jan." He followed her into the house and then asked, "Is Cliff home?" 

"He is," Jan said. "But I don't know if he's feeling very talkative today. He's been up in his room..." 

"I'll make him happy again," James promised. He hugged Jan tightly, who hugged him back. He broke away and ran up the stairs to Cliff's room, leaving Jan amazed at the affection a twelve year old boy was capable of. 

James didn't bother knocking on the bedroom door. He walked in to find Cliff, knees held to his chest sitting on the middle of the wood floor. His hair, which had gotten longer over the years, worked to hide the distraught face he wanted to hide from his friend. 

"Cliff?" James asked, sitting down next to him. When he didn't get a response he put his arm around Cliff, and that seemed to trigger the tears that were sure to come. 

He hugged James, tighter than he'd ever hugged before and cried into his shoulder. 

"I don't have a brother anymore," Cliff sobbed. "I want Scott back, I want Scott back..." 

Out of impulse, James began to cry too. Cliff seemed surprised at this, but didn't mind. They continued to hug and cry, every now and then lending some comforting words to one another. Well, as comforting words could possibly be after the death of a beloved family member. 

When the crying slowed down and the sobs turned to heavy breathing, Cliff looked at James, putting his hands on his shoulders. "Thank you," he said, directly into James's eyes. "I love you, man." 

James stared back at him. For some reason his heart swelled with happiness. Cliff loved him, and that meant they were family. Cliff was the brother James always wanted, and although he was never going to replace Scott in Cliff's life, being his best friend and brother was the next best thing.

 

"I love you too," he said. "Do you want to go have food now? I brought over cookies, your favorite kind." He smiled weakly. 

 

Jan brought them some milk as they sat at the table and ate, then went back to her room, leaving them alone. 

 

"These are really good," Cliff admitted, crumbs of white chocolate macadamia nut cookie falling from his mouth. He drank from his glass of milk. "You know what I'm going to do?" 

 

"What?" James asked. 

 

Cliff practically slammed the glass on the table. "I'm gonna play bass. I'm gonna be the best bass player in the world for Scott."

 

"Who's going to teach you?" James asked. 

 

"I don't know. But I'll find somebody. I promise I will." 

 

"You'll be great," James said. "Scott will be so happy." 

 

"Yeah..." Cliff paused. "Do you think he'd be cool with it if I used his bass?" 

 

"I think so."

 

At that moment Jan entered the kitchen. "Mom," Cliff said. "Can James sleep over?" 

 

"I don't see why not," she said, rubbing her tired eyes. "As long as James's mother says it's okay." 

 

"I'll run home and ask," he said, getting up from the table and pushing his chair in. "Be right back." With that, he was out the door. 

 

"Cliff," Jan said. 

 

"What is it, mom?" Cliff asked. 

 

"James is a good friend," she said, smiling for the first time in days. "I hope you know that, he's one in a million." 

 

"Yeah," Cliff said. "He's probably going to be my best friend forever." 

 

"I think so too," she said. Jan kissed her son on the head, and went to bed. 

 

About ten minutes later James walked back into the Burton house, bag in hand. "My mom said yeah. I grabbed some clothes, too." 

 

"Awesome." They wandered upstairs towards Cliff's room, but didn't make it there because Cliff veered into Scott's room. James hesitated before entering, wondering if he had a right to be there. He didn't know Scott very well, save for the few times he'd had dinner with Cliff's family and made small talk with him. When James heard the news of the accident, his sadness was more for Cliff and not necessarily Scott. A small part of James feared a vengeful spirit if he entered the room, but maybe that was just the plot of a horror movie Kirk had showed him. Cliff looked at him questioningly, and James shrugged off his thoughts as he entered the room. 

 

Cliff went directly for Scott's bass that leaned up against the dresser. He held it and just stared at it, like he was looking at some mythical being come to life. He'd always seen the instrument but never got to hold it. Now that he was, it all felt too real. 

 

"He's really gone, huh?" Cliff said, voice faltering a bit. 

 

James figured the question was rhetorical, so he sat down cross legged on the floor. "Could you play me something?" he asked. 

 

Cliff sat down as well. "I could try," he said. First, Cliff positioned his hand on the neck of the bass. He moved his fingers up and down until he picked a comfortable place. Then he pushed down a string, and strummed. It was a bit of a sour note, so Cliff tried a different string. That one sounded nicer. 

 

You couldn't really call what Cliff was doing music, but as messy as it was, it sounded relaxing. Apparently it was relaxing enough to lull James to sleep, because the next morning he woke up on the floor, Cliff asleep right next to him.

 

\---

 

Things had changed that summer. 

 

Cliff was no longer his hyperactive smile-all-the-time self. When Scott died, he took a part of Cliff too. The innocence in him seemed to be entirely absent. Often Cliff would sit hidden in the cattails alone, and when he was in that solitary mood he wouldn't speak unless directly spoken to. There were few things that brought back the child-like spirit in him, and those were his friends, books, and music. 

 

Cliff had thrown himself into music. Over the year that Scott passed he became significantly better at bass. His parents found someone who could give him lessons for an hour every other day, and when he wasn't studying with the instructor he was practicing himself, hours at a time. When Cliff used the amp James could hear the music from inside his house. He loved it, but his parents, not so much. 

 

On James's fourteenth birthday that year, he spent the day at the beach with Cliff, Kirk, and Lars. They took turns swimming out as far as they could, and Kirk always swam the farthest. Lars said Kirk could swim so fast because he was so damn small. That was true-- but everyone was pretty sure that soon enough he would be taller than Lars, who wasn't a big kid himself by any means. 

 

Cliff swam out to James who was treading water about thirty feet from the shore. James loved being surrounded by the sea, with nothing under his feet. It felt like he was detached from life, detached from reality. It was something he'd never experienced anywhere else. 

 

"What's up, birthday boy?" Cliff said, now treading next to him. He was actually smiling a true, genuine smile, and it was contagious. 

 

"Just thinking," said James. He looked up at the sky. "I think I'm nervous about high school." 

 

"Ah man," Cliff said. "It's really not too bad. At least we'll be in the same school now if you need me." 

 

"Yeah, that's true," he said. "I guess I'm just scared of everyone hating me." 

 

"That'll never happen," Cliff said. "Why would anyone hate you?" 

 

"Because I'm shy and awkward and weird," James said. 

 

"That's total bull. I want you to admit it." 

 

"But it's not, it's--" 

 

"James, say that it's total bull." Cliff looked at him and waited, until James finally gave in. 

 

"Alright alright, it's total bull." 

 

"Good." Cliff splashed him with some water. "Now let's not let this ruin your birthday. How about we head back to my house, my mom says she has a birthday gift for you." 

 

"Really?" James asked. "She didn't have to do that." 

 

"Kirk and Lars have gifts for you too," Cliff went on as they headed back towards the beach. "They told me what they got you about two weeks ago, can you believe I've kept it to myself this long?" 

 

"Actually, yes," James said. "You can be pretty secretive." 

 

"With other people, yeah," he said. "But with you it's different. I also have a gift for you, of course." 

 

They all walked back to Cliff's house, Lars hitting Kirk in the back with his towel every chance he could get. Kirk protested each time, but there was no real bite to his words since he couldn't help but laugh. 

 

"Why aren't your parents doing anything for your birthday?" Lars asked James. 

 

"My mom isn't feeling too well lately, she needed rest today," he replied. "And besides, my family isn't too big on birthdays." 

 

"Man. That sucks." 

 

"My mom treats James like another son anyway," Cliff said. "So our family makes up for his." 

 

James agreed with a laugh. 

 

They arrived back at the Burton house and sat at the kitchen table. Jan finished up putting candles in a freshly made chocolate cake and brought it to the boys. "Ray!" she called. "Ray and Connie, get down here so we can sing happy birthday to James!" 

 

Soon the whole family was together, and Jan lit the candles. "On the count of three!" she said. "One, two, three!" 

 

James was serenaded by his best friends and family. Lars yelled Happy Birthday obnoxiously, but made everyone laugh. Kirk sang in his high pitched voice, Cliff made James sway back and forth with him, and Cliff's parents and sister clapped their hands. It wasn't often that James felt this perfect, like he fit in and all the planets were in line. When he blew out the candles, he wished that he'd be able to keep his strange little family forever. 

 

"This cake is great, Mrs. B," Kirk said, wiping chocolate off of his face. 

 

"I agree," James said. He got up and hugged Cliff's mother, who was warm and still had flour on her shirt. "Thank you so much." 

 

"You deserve it James," she said, patting him on his bright blond hair. 

 

"This is for you," Ray said, handing him a box wrapped in shiny purple paper. James took it excitedly and carefully ripped the paper off. Inside were about ten cassette tapes, each labeled with masking tape, artists written on it in pen. At first glance he saw The Doors, Thin Lizzy, and Led Zeppelin. James looked up at Ray. 

 

"You're giving me all these?" he asked. 

 

"All yours," Ray said. "Its kind of been a tradition that when our kids turned 14, we'd give them some of our favorite music to listen to. It's that age when you can really start to appreciate it, I think." 

 

"Ray and I personally put our favorite songs from each band on the tapes, so you don't have to waste time with ones that are mediocre," Jan said. "I think Heart is the best group in there, but I may be a little biased." 

 

"Mom, you're practically a Heart groupie," Cliff laughed. 

 

"You guys," James said. "Thank you, so much. This is awesome." 

 

The Burton family wrapped him in a group hug.

 

"This is adorable," Lars said. "But I think it's time the Kodak moment ended so your friends can give you sick presents, too." 

 

"Alright, alright," Jan laughed. "You're always so charming, Sir Ulrich." 

 

"The most charming," Lars said. "Now come on, guys." He grabbed his gift bag and bolted up the stairs to Cliff's room. The rest of the boys looked at each other, gave a simultaneous mental shrug, and followed him.

 

"Do I want to know what they're up to?" Ray asked his wife. 

 

"Probably not," Jan said. 

 

Up in Cliff’s room, they all sat on his floor with their gifts for James in hand. Lars insisted he give his gift last, since he was gonna blow everyone out of the water anyway. Kirk rolled his eyes and handed James a rectangular box wrapped in newspaper with a black bow on top. When he took off the paper he found a shoebox full of comic books, and Kirk excitedly awaited his reaction. 

 

“Woah man, these look so cool!” James said. He was never really a fan of comic books, but he didn’t have the heart to give Kirk a lackluster reaction. 

 

“Right?” Kirk said. “Two weeks ago I went to the comic book store, and I picked out all my favorites and a couple other ones that just looked interesting. I figured we could read them together one night.”

 

“Sure,” James said. “Any time you want, man. Thank you for these.” He put the box down and punched Kirk in the arm. He could deal with reading comics with Kirk, as long as it involved ordering pizza and hanging afterwards. Because really, how long could someone read those things for? But Kirk looked happy, which made him happy too. 

 

“Your turn Cliff,” Lars said. 

 

Cliff waved his hand. “My gift isn’t an object. James will receive it later.” James raised an eyebrow, and Cliff mouthed, “Trust me.”

 

“Weirdos,” Lars said. “Well okay, time for the grand finale then.” He handed James the bag, which was surprisingly heavy. 

 

“What’s in this, bricks?” James said, peering into it. 

 

“I’d like to think it’s better than bricks,” said Lars.

 

It most certainly was not full of bricks, as James discovered. One by one he pulled out the contents. First was a bottle of what he just assumed to be soda, but when he caught a glimpse of the label he gasped. 

 

“Lars,” James said accusingly. “Where the hell did you get this?” It was beer, and when he looked back in the bag there was more, one for each of them. 

 

“Calm down, I got it from my parents’ liquor cabinet,” he said. “They won’t notice it missing.”

 

Cliff picked up a bottle. “What if one of our parents finds out we have this?” he asked. 

 

“They won’t if you’re discreet,” he answered. 

 

It only got worse as James pulled out two boxes of cigarettes, a lighter, and three Playboy magazines. There was also a decent amount of fireworks in the bag, which James actually thought was pretty great, but it didn’t take away from the fact that Lars had just given him a bag of shit that could get him killed. 

 

“I can’t bring this back to my house,” James said. “The fireworks, sure, but everything else, I don’t know man.”

 

“Oh come on!” Lars said. “I’m supposed to be the best friend ever for getting you all this! Do you know how hard it was to get my hands on cigarettes?”

 

“Did you steal them from your parents, too?” Kirk asked, looking utterly scandalized. “Knowing your dad, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t hesitate to throw you out a window if he found out.”

 

“I didn’t steal them,” he said. “I gave my hard earned money to Dave Mustaine to steal them from his parents and give them to me.” 

 

“Who the hell is Dave Mustaine?” Cliff asked. 

 

“Shit, that’s the kid in our bio class that puts gum in my hair!” Kirk said, touching his hair that had become quite long. “And he always tries to break my glasses.”

 

“He’s a good connection to have,” Lars said. “And the Playboys, those were hard to get too. I had to convince the guy at the store I was buying them for my dad, which is too disgusting to even think about.”

 

Cliff picked up one of the magazines and flipped through it, trying to look casual but every now and then he’d stop, and stare a little too long. James was starting to get worried.

 

“You sure no one will find out about this?” James asked. 

 

“James, I promise no one will ever know,” Lars said. 

 

“Okay… Thank you,” James forced out. He picked up a magazine, and Lars followed suit. 

 

For a while after that, they flipped through the pages and talked about the women they saw splayed across the paper. The others seemed to be enjoying it, pointing out the kind of girls they liked and the features that looked best. James just felt awkward about the whole thing. All he could think about was how wrong it all felt, but whenever the others asked him if he thought one of the girls was hot, he simply just said yes. How embarrassing would it have been if he let his discomfort show? They’d probably all think he was gay or something, and never let him live it down. 

 

When they opened up the beers, the reaction from all of them was similar. Not one of them liked the taste of the stuff, but not one of them was willing to admit it, either. They choked down the drinks and lied through their teeth about how good it was. Lars tried to convince everyone he was drunk, but Cliff told him to shut up. 

 

When there wasn’t much else to do, Lars and Kirk took their leave. They were both going back to Kirk’s house to do god knows what, and they hugged James and wished him a happy birthday one last time before the two were out the door. 

 

There was silence when it was just Cliff and James remaining in the room, so James coughed a little and asked, “So what’s this thing you’ve got planned for me?”

 

Cliff smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.” He picked up Scott’s (now it was Cliff’s, James had to keep reminding himself) bass from his bed. He sat down and positioned it up against his chest. “I wrote you a song. Just a warning, I have no idea if this is any good.” He began to tune the instrument. “I’ve never written music before. But I know how much you like when I play bass.” 

 

“Anything you write is gonna be good, Cliff,” James said. It amazed him that someone with such talent could suddenly be so doubtful. There was a knot in James’s stomach, and he felt a nervous anticipation run through himself. 

 

Cliff smiled bashfully. “Okay. Here it goes.” 

 

His fingers carefully played the strings, and at first the sound that emerged was heavy, almost dark. It got louder and louder, and as it intensified James could feel it in his chest. The thing that struck him the most was the power that could be within a single sound. There were songs performed by a full band that didn’t have this kind of power, and then there was Cliff, blowing him away with one bass. The song went into a riff that though repetitive, didn’t lose his interest. James was so enveloped in the song that it took him a while to realize Cliff’s eyes were shut, and he looked more concentrated than James had ever seen him. The more involved the song became, the more Cliff looked lost in the music in the best possible way. There was silence, and James figured the song had ended. Just as he was about to clap, things took an unexpected turn. A slow rhythm was being played, and god, if James didn’t know the sound was coming from strings, he would’ve sworn it was someone singing. It was beautiful, it was heartbreaking, captivating, and so many things at once that left James without a single thought other than, “Wow.” 

 

The song could’ve lasted an hour, or it could’ve lasted two minutes. James wasn’t sure, but when Cliff ended with a reprise of the beginning riffs, it slowly faded to a stop. It was stupid, but the impression left on James at that moment was that nothing would be the same. Cliff had something, something so incredible and mystifying. Now that it was released into the world, the addiction would begin. Addiction of creation, and listening. What was just put out couldn’t be undone, but James was pretty sure that was a good thing. 

 

“What do you think?” Cliff asked quietly, and James almost laughed. How could it have been anything other than perfect? Did he have ears?

 

“I think Lars can eat it,” James said. “Because you just gave me the best birthday gift I’ve ever gotten.” 

 

“You don’t know how much that means to me, man,” Cliff said. The look on his face was the epitome of happiness, and in the end they’d both received a gift. “I’ll play it for you any time, free of charge.” James chuckled. 

 

“What’s the name of that song, anyway?” he asked. 

 

“I call it Orion.” 

 

Even though the sun had long since set, Cliff suggested they go for a walk. Before they left, James noticed that Cliff had slipped a box of cigarettes and the lighter in the pocket of his denim jacket. 

 

The night had brought cool air to the island coast. James had to zipper his sweatshirt and wear the hood just to remain comfortable, which was ridiculous considering it was, you know, summer. Instead of walking towards the beach like he thought they would, he followed Cliff who was headed in the direction of the woods. It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but once they did the moonlight was enough to find his way without tripping over too many branches. Cliff looked at home wandering in nature. He looked like such a part of everything, like he had a place in the cycle of life. James was a little jealous. Cliff just gave off an energy that he’d probably never be able to own. Jealousy, however, could never last towards Cliff. James liked him too much to ever have a negative feeling towards him for too long. 

 

“You’re really talented,” James blurted out, and for a minute he thought Cliff hadn’t heard him because of the lack of response, but eventually Cliff acknowledged him. 

 

“That look on your face when I played for you,” he said. “I wanna see that forever.” Cliff added a nervous chuckle. 

 

“It seems like nothing makes you happier in the world than playing,” James said. 

 

Cliff stepped on a branch that snapped under his feet. “It’s probably my number one thing. Maybe number two, I don’t know.” 

 

They walked a little while longer until Cliff suggested they stop under a big tree that stuck out from all the rest. They sat against the trunk, knees touching each other. Cliff wordlessly took out a cigarette and lit it, as if he had way more experience than he did. James wasn’t sure if Cliff had ever smoked before. He thought he hadn’t, but he could never be too sure. As Cliff exhaled smoke, James forgot how to inhale. 

 

“Try it,” Cliff said, passing the cigarette to James. He took it in between his fingers and looked at it for a moment, then tried his best to mimic what Cliff had done, putting his mouth in the same spot Cliff had and breathing easily. It was harder than it looked, apparently, because it immediately felt like his throat had caught fire, and it threw him into a coughing fit. 

 

Cliff laughed, and between coughs James laughed too. “Why do people like doing this again?” James asked. 

 

“You get used to it,” Cliff said, smirking. “Can I?” James gave him back the cigarette and Cliff took a drag, smooth and elegant. He offered it to James again who politely declined, so Cliff smoked the rest of it. 

 

“Scott used to smoke,” Cliff said. It was the first time he’d said his brother’s name since after his funeral. He pulled out another cigarette. “He always smelled like it. His room did too, and all his clothes he’d give me. You know,” he said, chuckling as smoke left his nostrils. “The first time he let me smoke with him, he kept telling me to be careful and to not drop it, because he didn’t need me setting the house on fire. But right after he told me that, he dropped his cigarette and almost burned the carpet.” Cliff laughed, and for a fifteen year old, he looked like the picture of nostalgia. “He used to think he was so cool all the time, man.” 

 

“If I remember correctly, that’s because he was,” James said. He didn’t have many memories of Scott at all, just that Cliff looked up to him. That validated his character in James’s eyes. 

 

“Yeah…” Cliff looked away. “Do you think… Do you think he’d be proud of me?” He sounded so vulnerable, which didn’t happen often. Ever since Scott had died, Cliff had become pretty closed up. James was surprised at the sudden breaking of the walls. 

 

“I do,” James said, and he meant it. 

 

Cliff put a hand on James’s shoulder, and kissed him gently on the cheek. Having him so close made James only want him closer, and he wasn’t even sure what he wanted other than Cliff, period. Normally these thoughts would’ve scared him, but nobody was there to tell them no. Nobody was there to laugh at them, to poke fun, to insult them for anything they might do. He felt comfortable in his own little world with Cliff, where the only thoughts that mattered were each other’s. 

 

In an act of spontaneity that James didn’t even know he had in him, he returned the gesture by placing his lips slightly, just enough, against Cliff’s who thankfully didn’t pull away. It only lasted a moment with the purest and most innocent of intentions, because all James needed was a way to show Cliff that yeah, he felt this way too. The affection was mutual. It was only a minute after the fact that James realized what he just did. 

 

“Oh my god,” he said. 

 

“James,” Cliff said. “It only means what you want it to mean.”

 

At least Cliff wasn’t freaking out, and that made him feel a little better. James wasn’t even sure what he wanted it to mean, though, and it was hard to let go of the shock that he’d just kissed another boy, his best friend, someone that was like family. That didn’t happen, it wasn’t supposed to. He wasn’t supposed to want to kiss Cliff. It felt like his throat was closing up. 

 

“James…” Cliff put a hand on James’s chin, gently forcing him to face Cliff. “If I did something wrong, I’m sorry. You know I’m sorry, man. You know I love you.”

 

James wasn’t sure what kind of love Cliff meant anymore. 

 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” James mumbled. He didn't have the will to speak anymore. Instead, he hesitantly rested his head on Cliff’s shoulder, and he didn’t seem to protest. Cliff ran his fingers through James’s hair, and he closed his eyes and let the scent of smoke and the feeling of intimacy control him for just a while longer. 

 

When the idea of their parents wondering where they were crossed their minds, they started the trek back to the neighborhood. Cliff said he’d walk James home, and as James was just about to open his front door, Cliff spoke. 

 

“Happy Birthday,” he said quietly. 

 

“Thanks Cliff,” James said. He looked up at the sky. “Let me know if you see Orion.”


	3. While You Were Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way to post at the very last minute, self. I wanted to write a bit more, but I also wanted to keep my promise of posting on a regular schedule. So here it is, hope everyone likes it. Thanks to all my loyal readers, you keep me going. ❤

James was slowly but surely going through all the tapes Cliff’s parents had given him. At first he didn’t even realize that his family owned something that could play tapes, but after some searching in the garage he found a small stereo. He snuck it up to his room and listened to music for hours on end. A lot of the songs were old, and at times got boring. But he found himself quite interested in the lyrics, and he always picked out the bass parts. He thought that maybe one day, he and Cliff could write a song together. 

“Will you turn that off?” his father yelled to him from his bedroom. “Your mother has a headache!”

James groaned. This was the eleventh headache this week, and he was sick of being brushed off whenever he asked what was happening. It didn’t take a genius to know that there was something wrong with his mother he wasn’t being told about, and he was sick of it. He turned off the stereo and practically stomped to his parents’ bedroom. 

He entered without knocking. His mother was fast asleep in bed, and his father was sitting in his plush chair reading a book. “Dad,” James said. “I want to talk to you.”

“Can’t it wait?” he asked in an almost whisper. He motioned for James to lower his voice, but it was ignored. 

“No. I need to talk to you now,” James said, surprised at his own disobedience. He’d never demanded something of his father before. 

His father glared at him and put his book down. He got up and walked out into the hall with James, shutting the bedroom door behind him. “What is so important?” he asked. 

“You’re keeping things from me,” he said. “I want you to tell me what’s wrong with mom.”

His father looked thoroughly annoyed. “James, I told you, nothing is wrong with her. She’s just come down with, with the flu or something like that.” 

“That’s a lie!” James said, losing his patience. “Look, I’m not a little kid. I’m sixteen, if there’s something serious going on I can handle it. I just don’t want you lying to me anymore.”

His father sighed. “Fine, have it your way then.” He explained to his son how when he’d taken Cynthia to the doctor (which was a last resort), they’d found a tumour on her brain. Her condition was extremely serious, so she needed to be rested and stress free. 

James’s mouth gaped open. “Dad,” he said. “Why is she not in a hospital right now getting treatment? Do you want her to die?” Anger was boiling up inside him, and he had to clench his fists to control himself.

“She’s not going to die!” his father insisted. “She’s not in a hospital because it’s a waste of time, it’s all ridiculous. She’s a holy woman, James. God is looking after her, and God will cure her.”

James couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “It’s one thing to believe in God, but you can’t let mom die because of it!”

“She made this choice too!” he said. 

“When have you ever heard of someone just praying cancer away?” James asked. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life, dad, and I’m not gonna let you do this.”

“I thought you were a believer too,” said his father. He looked broken at just the mere thought of his son betraying the family’s faith. 

“Maybe I am a believer, I don’t know,” he said. “But I do know when to be rational, damn it!” 

“You watch your tone with me,” his father said sternly. “The wishes of your mother and I will be carried out, and that’s final.”

“I can’t believe this,” James said. “This is complete and utter bullshit.”

“We’re done with this conversation, young man,” said his father. “You can go back to your room, now.”

“I’m not done!” he yelled. “If I had half a mind I’d call an ambulance to take her away right now! I can’t believe I’m saying this to my own father, but you’re obviously not responsible enough to care for her! You’ve got to see how fucking stupid this is. You’re not an idiot, are you?” 

“James,” he said through his teeth. “We. Are. Done.”

“So I don’t get any say in this?” James asked in one final plea to be heard. 

“No, son. You don’t.” With that, his father went back into his bedroom and shut the door behind him. 

James had never felt more enraged in his life. Being told your mother was slowly withering away from cancer was enough to knock someone out for a week, but also learning that his incompetent father was gonna rely on faith, trust, and pixie dust was too much to handle. He kicked the wall and his foot went right through it, forming a sizeable hole. Fuck, he wanted to hurt somebody, break something, do anything to release everything that was building up before he exploded. 

All he wanted to do was see Cliff, because that was sure to make him feel better. But then he remembered that Cliff was in San Francisco for two more days visiting his cousins, and he knocked over the bookshelf in his room in frustration. But it occurred to him then that there was something he could do that might help. 

“Well look at you, finally growing a pair,” Lars said when James showed up on his doorstep and asked if he had any beer. “I’m proud of you, Hetfield. Luckily my parents aren’t home, so the place is ours.” 

“Where are they?” James asked, walking into Lars’s house. He’d only ever been there a few times, so he didn’t realize just how huge it was. He looked around, a bit amazed. 

“Just running errands, but that means they’ll be gone for hours.” Lars looked at him. “Are you okay, man?”

“Too sober to speak,” he said. 

“Don’t I know it. Let’s change that, then.” 

The strong taste of the alcohol was easily ignored in order to reach the point of utter drunkenness. James had never really experienced it before, but from what he’d heard and seen with other people, this was the way. Perhaps it was the only foolproof option of forgetting. 

Lars watched him carefully as they drank, sensing something was up. He didn’t say anything straight away, though, simply eyed James skeptically. Lars wasn’t an idiot. He knew his best bet was to get all the information he could out of James when he was too smashed to realize what he was even saying. He had no problem waiting for the right time, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried. 

The silence began to annoy Lars, so he got up and turned his stereo on. The Misfits blasted through his living room, and James’s ears perked. 

“Who is this?” he asked. “I’ve heard this before, Cliff likes this band.”

“He’s the one who showed me them,” Lars said. “The Misfits, they’re pretty good.”

“How are the drums going, by the way?” James asked. “You’ve been at it for years, right? And I’ve never even seen you play ‘em.”

“There’s no point in listening to a drummer without a band,” Lars said. “Like, I listen to all these albums and everything sounds so… complete. One part doesn’t sound good without the other, you need everything. But I’ve only got one part.”

“Then ask people to play with you, man,” said James. “It would be awesome if you were in a band.”

“I just have no idea who I’d even ask,” Lars said. Then, like the idea fell on him from the sky, he lit up. “Hold on, do you think Cliff would play with me?”

James paused. “Possibly. But then that’s only two parts, you need at least one more.”

Lars took a swig from the bottle he was holding. “You should sing.”

“What?” James choked. “I don’t sing.”

“Sure you do,” he said. “I hear you sometimes, jamming out by yourself when we listen to music together. And you write too, don’t you?” 

“Sometimes, but I don’t write songs,” James said. “Look, there’s plenty of other people that can sing for you. And besides, if I was to do something, I’d want it to be playing guitar. I’ve been thinking about that lately.”

“Who says you can’t do both?”

“I do!” 

“Oh come on, try singing just once,” Lars persisted. “If you hate it, then don’t do it anymore. But at least give it a shot! Write a song, and me and Cliff will back you up.”

“I don’t know man…”

“I’m gonna annoy the shit out of you until you do.”

“Alright,” James said. “Eventually I’ll write something, and we’ll try. Cliff’s definitely gonna want to be in your band. He’s been talking about shit like that for a while now.”

“Well judging from how much he blows us off to go practice, I’m assuming he’s pretty good,” Lars said. 

James sighed. “Pretty good is an understatement. Like, you wouldn’t even believe it…” 

“Bass is kind of a lame instrument though,” said Lars. “Nobody gives a shit about the parts in the song, bassists never get chicks like singers and guitarists do, no one remembers their name, the list goes on and on. Nobody ever says the bass player is their favorite member of the band, you know?”

“I guarantee that if you listen to Cliff play just one song, your whole mindset will change,” James said. 

“It’s cool that you’re talking him up, and I believe you,” Lars said. “But you’re practically in love with the guy, you always talk about him like he’s Jesus or some shit.” Lars laughed, and James forced a chuckle out of his throat. 

“I don’t know,” James said. He felt a pleasant dizziness settle into his body. “I talk about him too much, don’t I?”

“Yeah,” Lars said. “Honestly, sometimes it’s a little weird.”

“Whatever,” James said. He put his face in his hands to take a break from the conversation. 

“Why’d you come here, man?” Lars asked. “I mean, spending quality time with me is something anyone would jump at, but you’re not okay today. Why’d you wanna get smashed so bad?”

James didn’t even look up. “My parents,” he said. “My dad, what a god damn idiot.”

“What did he do?”

“My mom’s sick,” James said. “And it’s real bad. No joke, this is cancer we’re talking about.”

Lars was in disbelief. “What the fuck… I had no idea, that’s fucking awful man.”

“I had no idea until today,” James said, laughing bitterly. “My dad thought it would be a good idea to keep it from me for god knows how long.”

“That’s messed up, I can’t even imagine.”  
“And it doesn’t stop there,” James said. “She’s not getting treatment. My dad won’t let her because he doesn’t believe in fucking medicine.” 

“Why?” Lars asked, shocked. “How is she going to get better then?”

“She’s not,” James said. “She’s not going to.” 

“James…” Lars exhaled deeply. “Christ, I’m so fucking sorry. I wish I knew what to do.”

“Just keep letting me do this,” he said, holding up the beer in his hand. 

“I don’t know, I think you’ve had enough--” James glared at him, and he shut his mouth quickly. 

James did have enough. More than enough, actually, because when he got home he threw up more than he’d ever had in his life. Nobody even noticed he was vomiting his brains out, so when the contents of his stomach were completely released, he went straight to bed. It was only eight pm, but he fell asleep immediately. 

He woke up the next morning feeling like death. His room was still a mess from having destroyed most of it after the confrontation with his father, which was all coming back to him now. How would they face each other after something like that? He also remembered a hole in the wall in the hallway at some point, so he quietly wandered out of his room and saw the wall had already been plastered up. Was it possible that this all could just be forgotten and moved on from that easily? 

He waited for his father to scold him, punish him, do something, but it never came. His father ignored him when he came downstairs to make his morning coffee, and when James said good morning to him he simply was waved off. His father retreated back to his room after that, and James didn’t see him the rest of the morning. He realized then that being ignored stung worse than any punishment he could’ve gotten.

He figured the day would just be a total loss, and the pounding headache he had wasn’t making him think any more positively. But then it occurred to him that today was the day Cliff returned home, and he threw on his jacket to wait outside for him. 

Meanwhile, Cliff sat in the backseat of his family’s car (Connie called shotgun, and Cliff took that seriously) staring out the open window and letting the wind hit his face. It was strange; San Francisco and Satterly both smelled like the sea, but it was different in each place. The west coast air was coated with salt and humidity. The east coast air was a bit lighter, a bit fresher. Maybe he just missed home a little, despite enjoying the hell out of his trip to California. Or maybe he just wanted to finally get out of the car he’d been in for days with his family. 

In his lap he securely held a small tree in a beige pot. They were being sold at a farm stand near his cousin’s house, and once the farmer told him what that kind of tree was called, he knew he had to get it. Then, after a moment’s thought, he knew he had to save it for James. It was fifteen dollars well spent in Cliff’s eyes. 

The streets were getting more and more familiar, and soon Satterly Lane came into view. Cliff couldn’t hold back a smile when he noticed James sitting on his lawn waiting for him. Nobody but James did shit like that, and it never failed to send a kind of warmness throughout Cliff’s entire body. 

James perked up when he saw Cliff’s car rolling down the street. Two and a half weeks of him being gone felt like lifetimes, and Cliff felt like a godsend in the midst of all the fucking chaos happening. The car pulled into the driveway, and Cliff emerged. “Good timing,” he said with a smile. James chuckled. 

“How was the trip?” James asked. He kind of just wanted to tackle Cliff in a giant hug, but he had some self control. 

“It was great,” Cliff said. “I have so much to tell you. But first, a souvenir.” He went into the backseat of the car and grabbed the plant he’d carried with him for miles. He handed it to James, who was understandably confused. “I got this for you because it’s called a Weeping Pussy Willow.”

James bursted out laughing. “I never thought a tree could be such an entertaining gift!”

“I should be a comedian,” Cliff smiled. 

“Well look who’s here to greet us!” Jan said as she climbed out of the passenger side of the vehicle. “We missed you, James, you’re looking well!” She ran over and gave him a quick squeeze. 

“That’s because I am well,” James said, feeling odd about lying. There was no use in worrying Jan, though. She was the type of woman who would sit with you all day and serve you hand and foot if she found out you had a cold. She didn’t need the burden of trying to take care of James, too. 

“How’s it going James?” Ray asked, carrying a big bag of luggage on his shoulder. Connie gave him a quick wave and a short greeting, not looking as excited as Ray and Jan over his presence. 

“I’m glad you guys are back,” James said. For the first time that week, he was happy again. 

After helping Cliff unpack some of his stuff, James took a walk with Cliff as he enthusiastically told James of all the fun he had in San Francisco-- “It’s the place to be for musicians, man, you wouldn't believe it.” He smoked as he walked, which had become quite a regular habit for him. “Next time we go to visit my family, I wanna take you there. The music isn’t even the only cool thing about it, the scenery is amazing, too. Led Zeppelin wasn’t exaggerating when they sang so highly of California.” 

“Robert Plant would never lie to us, Cliff.” 

He got a kick out of that. “Anyway, what have you been up to while I was gone?” 

Suddenly it all came rushing back to James, but now wasn’t the time. He would tell Cliff of his mother’s condition eventually, but he didn’t feel like acting pathetic right now. “I’ve decided I’m growing my hair out,” he said instead. 

“That’s great,” Cliff laughed. “It’ll take a while for you to catch up to me, though.” That was true, because Cliff probably hadn’t cut his hair in a number of years. It was well past his shoulders and showed no signs of stopping. Though his hair had gotten longer over the years, it stayed that same brilliant red it had since the day they first met. 

James kind of hated himself for it, but he loved watching Cliff smoke. He didn’t know what it was, but anything Cliff did never failed to draw James in. It reminded him of the sirens in the Odyssey, that long ass book he had to read in English a few months before. Soon Kirk and Lars would have to tie him to the mast of the boat, because the siren song he was hearing got stronger every single day, but he wanted to keep listening. 

“No offense, but you look like shit man,” Cliff said. “You sick or something?” 

“I’m a little hungover,” James admitted sheepishly.

Cliff looked surprised. “Who were you drinking with last night, Lars?” James nodded. “Huh. Is this a thing you do now?” 

“I guess so,” James said. 

“You know a habit I picked up in San Francisco?” Cliff asked. “Weed. It’s so fucking easy to get there.” 

James had never even thought about smoking weed. For one, it was too hard to get, and expensive to boot. It was also pretty illegal, and it was too much effort to get the same effect you could get with alcohol. At least James figured it was the same. “What’s it like?” he asked. 

“You don’t have to ask me,” Cliff said. “You can experience it yourself. I brought some back, let’s smoke it tonight.” 

“Alright, whatever.” He wasn’t particularly excited, but he wasn’t entirely opposed, either. He’d probably jump in front of an eighteen wheeler if Cliff told him to. “Hey, did you know Lars wants me to sing?” 

Cliff’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, my reaction exactly.” 

“Are you going to?” he asked. “I didn’t know you sang.” 

“I didn’t know I sang either,” James chuckled. “I don’t know, I kind of want to learn guitar instead.” 

Cliff abruptly stopped and sat down in the grass. James followed suit, and Cliff said, “Sing for me.” 

“What?”

“You heard me,” he said. “I wanna hear you sing, James.” 

“But I can’t,” he said. “Besides, what would I even sing?”

“Everyone can sing,” Cliff said. “Just not everyone is good. And I dunno, sing whatever song has been in your head lately.” 

“This is crazy,” James said, looking away from Cliff and picking at the grass. 

“You don’t have to be shy. It’s just me,” Cliff encouraged. 

James scoffed. “Just you. Yeah, okay.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cliff asked. 

“It means I give a shit about your opinion of me.” Immediately after saying that, James wished he hadn’t. 

“Well you can rest assured that my opinion of you won’t change even if you’re a shitty singer,” Cliff said. “Come on, please?”

“Alright, okay,” James sighed. Suddenly he was incredibly nervous. He never actually sang in front of someone before, and especially in front of anyone as important as Cliff. He took a deep breath, forced his fear down, and opened his mouth. 

The song he’d been liking the most lately was Turn The Page, a song on one of the tapes Cliff’s parents had given him. He loved the lyrics and everything they stood for; he was enthralled by the lifestyle of musicians. He didn’t make eye contact with Cliff the entire time he sang, and he stopped halfway through the song just because he felt awkward. He faced Cliff, who looked shocked. 

“James,” he said. “Why the fuck have you been hiding that?” James smiled, relief washing over him. “Your voice is insane, man! Who woulda thought you could sing!”

“You’re just saying that,” James said, but he was incredibly happy he’d gained Cliff’s approval. 

“I’m totally not, I mean it,” he said. “I don’t know how Lars was able to sense your hidden ability, but I’m glad he did.” 

“Thanks,” James said, and fuck, was he blushing?


	4. The Only Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! I hope the chapter content makes up for the lateness. Love you guys, thanks for all your comments

They made their way back to Cliff’s house as the sun was beginning to set. The house was empty, and there was a note on the fridge that read, Out to the grocery store to get something for dinner. Be back soon! Connie is with us. -Mom and Dad 

 

“I was hoping they’d be gone,” Cliff said, a somewhat mischievous smile on his face. “Now we don’t have to smoke outside, we can just hang in my room.” James had forgotten about Cliff’s plan.

 

They walked up to Cliff’s room and he opened his window all the way. “Just gotta stay by here,” Cliff said. “We won’t get away with this if we stink up the house.” They sat on Cliff’s bed.

 

“It smells?” James said. “Gross.”

 

“It absolutely smells,” Cliff laughed. “It’s not bad, just strong.” 

 

Moments later James decided that Cliff was in fact a liar, because the smell was absolutely bad. It was awful, actually, and if they didn’t have a window open James would’ve probably suffocated. Cliff didn’t seem to mind at all, though. He took a drag and then offered it to James.

 

“Will this feel like the first time I smoked a cigarette and make me hate weed for the rest of my life?” James said with a nervous chuckle. He took the joint in his hand.

 

“Maybe,” Cliff admitted. “But smoking cigarettes and smoking weed are two completely different things. Cigarettes don’t get you high.”

 

The word ‘high’ alway had a negative connotation to James. That was a word for crack heads and meth addicts. Heroin addicts went crazy searching for their next high. Now James wasn’t an idiot, he knew weed was probably the safest drug anyone could do, but it was a drug nonetheless. It gave him a bad feeling to be around it, and to know that Cliff was such an avid user. 

 

“You know,” James said, passing the joint back to him. “It’s all yours, man. I’m gonna sit out this round.”

 

“Really?” Cliff said. “You sure?” 

 

“Totally.” James was waiting for Cliff to poke a little fun at him for being scared or something, but he didn’t. He just said that it was fine, and continued to smoke. 

 

“The second night I was in San Fran,” Cliff said eventually, after a few minutes of silence. “I went to a party with my cousin Pete. Big fucking house party, I didn’t even know the host. I don’t think Pete did either.” He laughed a little harder than necessary. “Anyway, there were chicks everywhere. Chicks throwing themselves at anyone with a dick. This one girl started chatting it up with me, and next thing I know she’s blowing me in someone’s bedroom.”

 

“And she didn’t even make you take her out on a date first?” James asked sarcastically. “Wow, bring me to California.”

 

Cliff laughed, an indication that he hadn't heard the hurt in James’s voice. “If you were ever fucking around with someone, you’d tell me right?” he asked. 

 

“Sure,” James said. “I haven’t been, anyway.” 

 

“Why not?” asked Cliff. 

 

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “People are strange, and I don’t know what I want.” To be perfectly honest, the thought of dating somebody hadn’t crossed James’s mind. Of course he saw people that were attractive to him in school and elsewhere, but never did he feel a real emotional attachment to someone. Emotions weren’t what Cliff meant by “fucking around”, but James had been brought up to believe that love came first before anything else in a relationship between two people. Screw his bible-thumping parents for making him so different from the other guys. 

 

Cliff wasn’t the only one getting with chicks, Lars was too. Every other day he had a new story of some escapade he had with “the hottest girl ever”, which was a different girl every time. James wasn’t sure how honest Lars was, though. He had a tendency to stretch the truth to make himself look better, so he always took anything Lars said with a grain of salt. Apparently James and Kirk were the only losers not playing this game. It made James feel like a bit of an outcast. 

 

“Remember when we kissed?” Cliff said out of nowhere. The joint was hanging out of his mouth and he exhaled smoke. He looked so relaxed, while James’s stomach was dropping. 

 

“Ha, yeah,” James said. He hoped it was just a random thought that had popped into Cliff’s head and they could move on, but that wasn’t going to happen. 

 

“It was a short kiss,” said Cliff. “Real short…”

 

“Well we were younger and all… And it was just a weird thing.”

 

“I wanted it to last longer,” Cliff said. He stared at James, who was surprised at Cliff’s confidence. He remembered, though, that by this point Cliff was probably high off his ass, so that could’ve helped. 

 

“Really?” James asked. He wanted to be cool about it, but what he was feeling got harder and harder to hide. 

 

Cliff chuckled. “James, honestly…” 

 

“What?”

 

“Why do you always have zero confidence in yourself?” he asked. “It’s like you don’t think you’re good enough for me to want you or something.” James opened his mouth to speak, but Cliff went on. “Like, you were so surprised when I said I liked your singing voice. But anyone with ears would know that it’s awesome! I know you’ve always been shy, man. That doesn’t mean you have to act that way around me, though. I’m your best friend.”

 

“I’m at my least shy around you, honestly,” James admitted. 

 

“Well, I guess I’m glad about that,” Cliff said. “I just don’t get it.”

 

“What did you mean by you wanting me?” James blurted out. 

 

“What do you mean what did I mean?” Cliff chuckled. He was looking spacey and seemed to be drifting from the conversation at hand, and James knew he had to get him back in. Frankly it scared the shit out of him to be this up front, but like with his father, he needed answers. 

 

"You want me like a friend, right?"

 

"Of course," Cliff said. "You're like, the best friend... I've probably ever had. No, really, definitely the best I've ever had. I want you all the time. Sometimes like like a brother, sometimes like a lover. It's fucked up, man. It's fucked up." 

 

"Lover..." James laughed a little. “You read too many old books, man.” 

 

“It’s a stupid word,” Cliff agreed. “But boyfriend is stupider.”

 

“Cliff…”

 

“What is it?”

 

“You’ve been giving me mixed signals since we were kids,” James said. “Shit, I don’t even know what this all means. But if one of us at least knew what we wanted, it would make this a hell of a lot easier.”

 

“It’s just stupid,” Cliff said. He coughed. “Why are we putting so much pressure on ourselves to make a choice? Why can’t we just go with it, you know?”

 

“How can we go with it if we haven’t established what it is?” James asked. 

 

“Who says we have to?” 

 

“This isn’t about anybody else telling us what to do. This is about… I don’t know, letting it be known what we want to do. I don’t give a fuck what anyone would think of this, to be honest,” James said. “It’s not like we’d tell anyone, anyway. All I need to know is what you want from me.”

 

Cliff started laughing, and at first it pissed James off but then he realized there was something underneath it. 

 

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Cliff smiled. He leaned over and put a hand on James’s neck, who practically jumped out of his skin because well, that was unexpected. “That whole time at the party when I was with that chick…” His voice was low in James’s ear. “I kept thinking how much better at it you’d be than her.” He was laughing again, and James let himself laugh a little too. 

 

“I think your expectations of me are too high,” James said. “Or she was just really, really bad.” 

 

“Probably both.” Cliff smiled, and James chuckled. “I think I’m too high.” 

 

“That too.” 

 

“Do you wanna kiss me?” Cliff blurted. “Because I think I really want to kiss you.”

 

James didn’t think he had to answer. He dove right into the situation and kissed Cliff, so many nights after the night in the forest. Nervousness remained, but most of the apprehension he felt the first time they kissed had dissipated, for his dire need to just be close to Cliff took it over. Cliff was warm, Cliff was familiar, and Cliff felt better than anything. He reeked like weed and his mouth tasted like it too but James barely noticed, there wasn’t time to notice. He willed himself to stay in the current moment, because if the pattern of their intimacy were to continue, they wouldn’t get to do this again for a long time. He was going to enjoy this while it lasted. 

 

He would’ve been fine just kissing, but Cliff apparently had other plans. His hands were wandering across James’s body, from his neck to his shoulders to his chest. “Can I…?” Cliff asked, pulling at James’s shirt. “Do you want this?”

 

“Yeah,” James said. He was able to answer with complete and utter certainty. His chest was fluttering with anticipation and nerves. 

 

Cliff took off James’s shirt in one languid motion, and suddenly James didn’t feel confident. He’d never done this with somebody before, and he’d never been this exposed. He supposed his biggest fear was Cliff seeing him entirely and suddenly losing interest, not being attracted to him anymore. But he didn’t even have a chance to chicken out (which James was grateful for in the long run) since Cliff went right back to kissing him. He kept pulling their bodies closer, and James realized he should probably take off Cliff’s shirt, too. He imagined for a moment Cliff’s body against his, and he could swear he was blushing with embarrassment because of how turned on he was becoming. When James really thought about it, how fucking awkward was it that he had a raging boner in front of his best friend? On the other hand, Cliff did too, and he didn’t seem embarrassed, so James went with it.

 

He slid his hands under Cliff’s shirt, who shuddered at the contact. James thought he almost heard him moan, so he ran his hands over Cliff’s entire chest, and Cliff let out a deep breath. “James, you have no idea. This feels so fucking good. I’ve never done this high. Or with a dude,” he added with a laugh. James smiled, and he leaned in to push Cliff’s long hair aside and kiss his neck. “Fuck,” Cliff moaned, finally letting himself. “I’ve wanted you, like this, for so long…”

 

That sort of validation from Cliff made him the happiest he’d ever been. There was a sort of pride in the fact that he was able to make Cliff act like this, so open and aroused and asking for it. As much as he loved when Cliff touched him, there was something about having some dominance that James liked. It made him feel more like a guy again. 

 

James finally removed Cliff’s shirt, and as he threw it to the side Cliff wrapped his arms around James, their skin finally meeting as he pulled him to his chest. James couldn’t help but let out a soft moan, and that really got Cliff going. He kissed James harder and pushed him down on the bed, and Cliff was on top of him, practically straddling his hips. Whenever their hips were pressed together James could feel Cliff’s erection through his jeans against his, and it drove him insane. But Cliff apparently realized this, because he felt Cliff’s fingers undoing the belt he was wearing. 

 

He put his lips on James’s neck, kissing him gently then suddenly biting him. James moaned half from the pain and half from the pleasure, and Cliff continued biting and sucking on his neck as James ran his hands along Cliff’s back. His skin was so perfect, so warm and soft. Who needed drugs when Cliff got him this high?

 

James’s jeans were unzipped now, and he needed release. Cliff was so good but so slow, the pleasure was agonizing. Cliff was probably doing it on purpose though to get this sort of reaction out of James, and that almost turned him on even more. He made a silent vow to himself, however, that he wouldn’t ask for anything. There was no way he’d put himself on that submissive of a level, because not only was it embarrassing, but he wasn’t a girl. James sort of hated himself for thinking about those traditional roles. He couldn’t help it though, for they’d been drilled into his brain by his family from an early age. “Boys take charge, girls are subservient.” He hoped that eventually doing things like this with Cliff wouldn’t keep wounding his apparently fragile masculinity, because he was really fucking enjoying himself at the same time. 

 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Cliff touched James’s dick through his jeans, and James let out a breath. “It’s funny,” Cliff said, taking out James’s dick. He started slowly jacking him off, and James bit his lip to keep silent. “You’re always going to remember me as your first blowjob.” 

 

James almost didn’t register what Cliff had said, but when he did he opened his mouth to say something, anything. That’s not all I’m gonna remember you for, something like that. But his brain shorted out once he felt Cliff’s mouth on him.

 

“Shit,” he said, breathless. He was already so close, but he wanted this to last so much longer. It was surreal, every bit of it. When he looked down he saw Cliff between his legs, sinfully running his tongue up and down James’s dick. James dug his nails into the bed and groaned, Cliff went back to sucking and fuck, he was so good at this, how the hell? James opened his eyes for a moment and caught a glimpse of Cliff touching himself and he heard Cliff moan and he felt it, and finally he let himself come, the combination of being blown and watching Cliff get off on it proving to be too much. 

 

He had a little freak out for a minute because he wasn’t sure if he should’ve warned Cliff before he came (because that’ what he always saw people in porn do), but to his utter shock Cliff actually swallowed. 

 

“There’s no fucking way you haven’t done this before,” James said, breathless. He was more exhausted than he’d ever been. 

 

“Guess I’m a natural born talent,” Cliff said with a shrug. He chuckled, and then James remembered that Cliff hadn’t gotten off yet, so he mustered up all the energy he had to sit up. Cliff looked him straight in the eyes. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’ll just rub one in after you leave.” 

 

James laughed. “Shut up, okay?” He tentatively wrapped his hand around Cliff’s cock, unsure of what to do but just going off instinct. He had a dick himself, obviously, so it wasn’t like he’d never seen one before. He figured he’d try and do what felt good on him in hopes it’d feel as good for Cliff. 

 

James really only finished him off, considering he’d been going the whole time he was sucking James off. His hand created the friction Cliff needed to come, and when he did he let out the most beautiful “fuck” James had ever heard. 

 

For a while after that they sat on the bed, catching their breaths. Cliff seemed to be back in his right mind again, because his eyes looked far less strained and red. It was real weird and quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time, and then Cliff got up and said, “I’m gonna change clothes.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Do you want to borrow some jeans?” he asked with a slight chuckle. 

 

“Oh,” James said. “Oh, yeah sure.” He actually felt rather embarrassed now that the heat of the moment had gone away. But Cliff seemed normal, and he walked over to his closet and dug through some clothes. 

 

It was in that moment James noticed what was laying on top of Cliff’s dresser. There sat a rock, one that looked grey and plain upon first glance, but once James remembered, his heart stopped. 

 

“You kept it all this time,” he said out loud. 

 

“Huh?” Cliff asked, pulling a new shirt over his chest. He threw a pair of jeans to James who knew already that they’d be too big on him (Cliff was damn tall). 

 

“The rock,” James said. He couldn’t stop staring at it. “You kept it.” 

 

“I’d never lose it.”


End file.
